


Desperate

by bearonthecouch



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jowan will take any escape he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers Jowan Character-Writing Challenge

“Don't worry, Jowan,” Lily whispers. Her voice is soft and lilting, tinted with an accent that hints at her childhood somewhere else, years spent in a world out there that Jowan is not and has never been part of. That more than anything else draws him to her.

She holds him to her breast and he lets her, feeling his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he is torn between succumbing to this forbidden comfort and running. He is afraid. Not of her, but of everything. Fear is too deeply woven into every part of life in the Tower to ever be completely escapable. He wonders if she feels it too.

Lily's fingers slip over his pale skin, sliding under the sleeves of his robes. He shivers in her arms. Above them, just out of reach, the candles flicker at the base of the statue of Andraste. The light of the full moon reflected by the lake filters in through the stained glass, all shades of blue and black in the darkness.

Lily traces the inside of Jowan's elbow, her fingers skipping over faded scar tissue. He leans in and puts his mouth over hers before she can ask about it. Her lips move beneath his, her mouth opening slightly. Jowan slides his tongue into her mouth, and he shifts his body to bring himself closer to her. She reciprocates, pushing her full lips against his slightly-chapped ones. Her breath escapes in deep exhalations that puff air out of her nose and onto his upper lip, where an adolescent fuzz has collected after a few days without shaving.

Eventually, Jowan breaks away. His fingers tangle into Lily's short hair. She wears it loose, hanging in uneven strands hastily cut just below her chin. The frayed ends brush his skin, picking up a static charge as he forces himself to calm his breathing. Her dark brown eyes stare at him, unblinking, and she frowns, deep worry lines furrowing between her eyebrows.

“What's wrong?” she asks carefully.

He shrugs, pulling away from her, drawing the robes that she has begun to loosen more tightly around himself.

When he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, she looks skinny and awkward, too young still to realize how trapped she is in this place. She chews on her lower lip, endearingly innocent. It breaks his heart.

“We can't do this!” he demands, choking on the words even as he says them.

But instead of conceding to the truth of what he's telling her, or pulling away in angry response to his rejection, Lily just takes a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. She trembles as she reaches out for him, and Jowan doesn't bother pushing her away. He doesn't have the strength.

He bows his head, as if in prayer. It's only when Lily's thumb gently brushes under his eye that he realizes he's crying.

Mana swirls inside of him as he hiccups and clenches his fingers into a loose fist grinding into the stone floor. With his free arm, he wipes roughly at his face, though the tears don't stop falling. Lily catches his hand in hers, and she studies his face with such intensity that the heat of it makes him blush. “I can't...” he stammers, willing her to understand. There is just so much that he cannot tell her. He is broken. He has been for as long as he can remember, since before the Tower even. “Tell me about Orlais,” he pleads. He is so desperate for any fragment of hope he can cling to, any escape. He gulps for air, unaware that he is already drowning.

Lily holds his hand, and talks. He barely hears the words, what matters to him are the rhythms of her voice, the soft pitch of it lulling him into relaxing, just enough. At some point, without him realizing it, she has begun to massage his shoulders, kneading away at decades worth of stress and tension. She takes away his pain, something he has never dared to ask for. At some point, she tries again to loosen his robes, and when she removes them entirely, he shivers in front of her, clad only in his smallclothes. His skin gleams with sweat in the candlelight, despite the chill in the midnight air.

She crawls atop him, and he finds some morsel of daring, hidden somewhere deep inside. Or maybe it's just desperation; not giving a fuck anymore. Either way, it's enough that he runs his hands under her robes the way she had his; pushing them up and over her body. His hands cup her small, firm breasts, feeling the nipples hardening in response to the cold. Taking a deep breath, he kisses one of them, then lightly nips at it, almost suckling. Lily shudders and moans something unintelligible.

Her flat stomach is somehow even more enticing, and he begins to trail his kisses downward, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He freezes when he feels Lily's hand closing around his throbbing member. He swallows hard, guilt and uncertainty paralyzing him. There is an annoying buzzing sound ringing in his ears.

Lily, seemingly unconcerned, strokes his sensitive knob. Now it's Jowan's turn to murmur unintelligible nonsense. He has taken care of this kind of thing himself since he was twelve, when he figured out that it was the kind of thing best dealt with quickly and without anyone else noticing. But this is different. Nice. It's not that Lily's an expert. She's slow, and uncertain, frustratingly so, but Jowan just closes his eyes and lets her get on with it. At some point, he finds himself kissing her again, and grabbing her wrist with his free hand. Now in control again, he slides into her. She is tight and wet and waiting, and suddenly the weight of everything he was afraid of just... falls away. The world shrinks down to the two of them, here in the candlelight, slick with sweat and shivering in the cold.

“Jowan,” Lily murmurs, after they are both spent, lying on the chapel floor with their balled up robes hastily thrown over their naked bodies. He nods, running his fingers through her hair as it feathers over his chest, tickling his nipple. “Come with me,” she whispers.

He nods again. He'll do anything.


End file.
